Animal Behavior
by Channel D
Summary: When Jimmy divulges a secret about Michelle, it goes through NCIS faster than a torpedo! How can he repair the damage? Written for the NFA Loose Lips Sink Ships challenge. 4 chapters; now complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**Animal Behavior**  
by channelD_

_written for:_ The NFA _Loose Lips Sink Ships_ challenge. The aim of the challenge is to write a story showing the fallout when one member of a couple lets a secret out to others.  
_rating:_ T  
_pairing:_ Jimmy and Michelle  
_genre:_ Humor, Romance

- - - - -

_Disclaimer:_ After a year of writing NCIS fanfic, I still own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

"You ever see any woman in leopard-skin pattern underwear, Probie? I never have. Stores carry it, I know—"

Tim pushed his cafeteria tray along the counter and laughed. "You're staking out the women's unmentionables department in stores still, Tony? I thought you'd given that up."

Tony looked at him stiffly. "That was purely for research purposes. And yes, I have." He grabbed a slice of chocolate cake from the dessert bar.

"My apologies, Dr. DiNozzo. But what do the women of your acquaintance wear? Nothing?"

"No, usually something black and lacy and oh-so-fine…Dang; I missed the drinks. Palmer, toss me a can of Pepsi, would you?"

"Sure, Tony." Jimmy, in line behind Tony and Tim, deftly whisked a can Tony's way. It was chance that had him arrive at the Navy Yard food court at the same time as Tony and Tim that day. Not that he would be sitting with them—they rarely invited him to do so. That was okay with him; he was content to eat alone. It was late May, and the temperature in DC was climbing by the day. As long as he had a bit of shade, he didn't mind eating in the park, where one could often get a smidge of breeze off the water.

"So—have you ever seen—?"

"Leopard prints on my dates? Uh, attire? Can't say that I have," Tim replied.

"Proves my point," Tony nodded. "Of course, yours are probably in corsets, McGiblet."

Tim reddened. "As a matter of fact—"

"As a matter of fact, I know someone who does wear leopard-patterned bras and panties," Jimmy spoke up suddenly. "And tiger-patterned, and zebra-patterned, and—" He broke off when he realized Tony and Tim were staring at him.

"That's 7 dollars and 23 cents, sir," said the teller at the cafeteria register. "Sir?"

It took a moment for Tony to hear her, and then, without much thought, he handed her a 1 dollar bill from his wallet, causing her to say again, "Sir?"

"Is this someone who works at NCIS?" asked Tim, struggling not to smile.

"Ah…er…" said Jimmy.

"James, my good man, I think it's best if you unburden yourself to us," said Tony, after handing the cashier a 10 dollar bill and forgetting to pick up the change. "Join us, and tell us everything you know. Leave out not one detail. McGee, pay for the fine fellow's lunch." He nodded at Jimmy's wrap and bottle of water. Tim rolled his eyes and did so partly out of Tony's change, and the three then took a table in the back of the room.

- - - - -

"So this is someone who works at NCIS," Tony pursued.

"Oh, yes. In Legal," Jimmy said carelessly.

"Hmmm. Do we know her?"

"Well, yes! Uh, maybe, I mean. There must be lots of people who work in Legal and you agents can't know them all."

"Not all the men, maybe," said Tim with a laugh, "but I'll bet that Tony knows all the women. Look, this is sounding personal. Maybe we better not—"

"I do know all the women in Legal," Tony sniffed. "It's my duty to stay informed. Now, who is it?"

Jimmy blushed. "You can't seriously expect me to name names!"

"Well, it would help. It's not Marge, the size—"

"No, she's quite petite." Jimmy was starting to feel he was getting in deep, but he wasn't able to entirely stop his runaway mouth.

"Michelle Lee?" ventured Tim, looking dubious. "I know she's got those great legs and all, for a person of her stature, but animal prints? I can't see that."

_I have,_ Jimmy thought, and his pulses raced at the thought, "No, it's not Michelle. Why would you think it's Michelle? It's not Michelle."

"Because unless you have a different definition of 'petite', all the other women in Legal are at least 5'6"," said Tony. "It _is_ Lee, isn't it? _Rowwr!"_ He leaned back, pleased with himself.

"And just…how do you know this, Palmer?" Tim asked.

"I, ah…she told me."

"Man, you have all the luck!! Women I barely know don't tell me these things!" Tony grinned.

Tim ignored him. "You have something going on with Michelle Lee, Palmer?"

Jimmy took a long slug from the water bottle. "No, of course not. Michelle Lee? Hahahahahaha!"

"Just as well," said Tony. "You're twice her size. At least! If she ever took off her high heels, she'd probably disappear altogether!"

Jimmy joined in the laughter, but felt guilty about doing so. _I'm letting them put her down…even though they're not being really mean about it, I still should be defending her. Shouldn't I?_

_Ah, well; this is just guy talk. Tony and McGee will forget about this as soon as we walk out of here._

- - - - -

Special Agent Michelle Lee had been working at the Pentagon office for the last few days, and had missed her Jimmy-fix. When she returned to NCIS the next morning, the topmost thing in her mind was when could she get away to meet Jimmy? She text-messaged him, but his phone was evidently off. _Oh, of course. He's in class._ She strode into the Legal department offices, looking thoughtful.

One of the clerks, Blondie, saw her and grinned. "Good morning, Michelle. You look, uh, nice today."

"Thanks. So do you," Michelle said automatically. Blondie was not usually one for chitchat. She must have had too much coffee.

"Hi, Michelle," sang out one of the lawyers, Consuelo. "I love your dark blue shirt. You, uh, wear a lot of dark colors, don't you?" This apparently amused her, and she turned away with a laugh.

_Of course I do, at work,_ Michelle thought, puzzled. _Dark colors hide the animal print bras I wear here. I only wear them because Jimmy likes them so much._

_If I had my way, I'd go back to plain white or champagne-colored._

Legal was a heavily-female department. The staff mostly got along pretty well, but Michelle had tried to keep her private life private; afraid that if she got too chummy with the others, she'd let slip her relationship with Jimmy. So she hid most of her thoughts and feelings from them, and liked it that way. She didn't even know if she could get any support from them in a crisis…it all might end in derision. But no one knew about Jimmy, and they would never know. That thought was satisfying.

"Michelle—" That was Yvonne, the department head. She was a serious woman, and sounded serious now. "Michelle, the Director would like to see you in her office. Right now."

- - - - -

Cynthia Sumner's face was perfectly bland when Michelle came into the Director's outer office. "She's expecting you, Agent Lee," Cynthia said calmly. "Go on in."

Her knees knocking, Michelle knocked on Jenny's door meekly, and then opened it. _What have I done wrong??_ She was only summoned to the office to bring case files; there had been no mention of it this time.

"Agent Lee. Michelle. Please, have a seat." Jenny gestured to the oblong table, and sat in a chair next to Michelle.

"Is—Is there a problem, Director?"

Jenny looked startled, as if her train of thought had gone off the tracks. "Well, yes, perhaps. Michelle, gossip is an ugly thing. Have you heard…?"

"Heard, Director?"

"You haven't heard, then. Something popped up starting yesterday, I think, concerning you. Or rather, concerning your…undergarments." Jenny quickly told a horrified Michelle of the story that had cut through NCIS with bullet-speed: Michelle's love for animal-print underwear.

"Now, Michelle; I for one could not care less what you wear underneath your clothes. It should be no one's business. But someone clearly found this amusing, in a juvenile way, and is making trouble for you. I will not tolerate this in the workplace; it is cruel, demeaning, and potentially in violation of the sexual harassment regs. So, tell me who you think is behind this."

Michelle felt numb. There was only one person who knew what she wore! _Why why why…_ "I have no idea, Director," she said, feeling the tears coming to her eyes. She could have named Jimmy, but why bother? She would take a higher moral ground, and confront him privately.

And then, if necessary, eviscerate him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

- - - - -

Tim and Tony worked quietly at their desks that day, lying low, both silently praying for a new case that would take them out of the building. Word was that the Director was on the warpath, intent on finding the person who'd spread the secret of Michelle's underwear. Ziva gave Tim and Tony curious looks, obviously wondering what had them cowed. Gibbs looked like he was ready to become Deputy Leader of the warpath, and on the verge of head-slapping both of them.

_He couldn't know, could he?_ Tony and Tim wondered._ How could he know?_

When lunchtime came, Tim and Tony were only too glad to flee for the safety of McDonalds. "You don't see Palmer, do you?" Tony asked sourly. "We wouldn't be in this trouble if it weren't for him."

" '_We'??_ There is no 'we' in this, Tony!" Tim sputtered.

Tony gave him a sideways stare, and then sighed.

- - - - -

Jimmy was a little late coming into work that day, and didn't bother waiting for the elevator. Instead, he rushed down the stairs into Autopsy, an apology ready on his lips. In fact, he murmured as he ran out of the stairwell. _"I'm sorry, Doctor Mallard; the Metro stalled again at_—AWK!" as his arm was seized, pulling him off balance.

"Jimmy Palmer!" a voice he knew well hissed at him.

"Michelle! Oh, hi! How was the Pentagon?"

"Don't you act innocent with _me_, Blabbermouth Boy! We have some talking to do!" She shoved him into the elevator, which had obligingly just arrived at their level.

"Blab—_what_??"

Ducky stepped out as they fell in. "Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Palmer! Sorry I wasn't here when you arrived, but I'm sure you got right to—" He watched the elevator door close, and the two young people head off for parts unknown. "—work?"

- - - - -

"Michelle, what are you doing?? Where are we going?? I'm late for work as it is!" Jimmy tried reaching for the button bank, but Michelle stubbornly blocked his way. She'd already pressed the button for the third floor.

"Do you know how many ways of killing a man they taught us at FLETC?" Michelle snarled.

"Uh…no?"

"Well, I don't remember now. But it was a lot! And it only takes one way, if you do it right the first time!" She briefly flashed back on some of her (many) unsuccessful attempts on war dummies.

The elevator dinged and opened at the third floor. Michelle yanked Jimmy out of the car; she was much stronger than her small size would suggest. Jimmy finally realized that he was in trouble, of some sort. "I did something wrong? What did I do wrong?" he asked nervously. He wasn't frightened of Michelle—though sometimes he thought he _should_ be—but it was not in his nature to unintentionally upset anyone.

"Hush!" she snapped. "Not out here in the open! We'll find a vacant room and then I'll give you a piece of my mind!"

"Ah…okay…"

"Blasted air-conditioning!" she mumbled. "It's all screwy on this floor. The repair guys still haven't come. That's why so many offices have doors propped open, so their workers don't die…Oh, good. This looks like a likely spot."

An unmarked door, no doubt the back door to some office, was open, revealing the darkness inside. Michelle shoved at Jimmy's frame—a little harder than pulling him by the arm—and pushed him inside.

Only glows from a few always-on monitors were visible to them. Michelle faced Jimmy down, even though she could barely see him. "All right, mister. They've been talking about me all over this building, and it's all YOUR fault! I'll have you know that it's NO ONE'S BUSINESS what underwear I wear—even if I do think my animal prints are sexy as hell and look fantastic on me! So even if I wear them for you, WHY do YOU think you have any right to go blabbing about my TIGER-PATTERNED BRAS, and—"

"_Excuse me!"_ A few lights flicked on, revealing the Director, Gibbs, the SECNAV, the head of MTAC, and the various other people that usually worked here. In this main communications room of MTAC.

Screaming, Michelle ran back out through the dark corridor; Jimmy right behind her.

"Who was that?" asked the SECNAV.

Gibbs looked pensive. "DiNozzo and McGee, I think."

- - - - -

Michelle shoved Jimmy into a smaller room, and this time, shoved the door closed and turned on the light. The room was empty.

"Okay, now spill!" she spat at him. "_Why_ were you telling the world about—"

"Slow down, Michelle. I get the point," Jimmy said, his head aching. "I didn't go telling everyone about your underwear. Someone must have. But it wasn't me."

Her quick, legal-trained mind picked up on the loophole. "You say you didn't tell _everyone_. Does that mean you told _someone_??"

"Uh…ah…" he gasped, and edged toward the door.

"Jimmy!!"

"It was just Tony and McGee!!" he cried, frightened and ashamed now. "Just guy talk. We were just goofing around. I'm sure they would never…"

"They would never?? Jimmy, if he had the contacts, DiNozzo would have gotten it on the 6:00 news!!"

"Um…well…"

"You are _unbelievable_! Do you know how humiliating this is for me??"

"I didn't…"

"No, you _didn't_ stop to think! That's pretty obvious. Well, you know what, Jimmy? _We're through!"_ She stormed out of the room, deaf to his cries of apology.

- - - - -

By chance Michelle ran into Tim in the third-floor break room at afternoon break. He had been sent to the Director's office on a long errand, and didn't see the need of going to the second floor just for a can of Diet Coke when he could get one closer by. "McGee," she nodded at him.

"Uh, hi, Michelle." Tim's usual conversational fallback with a woman was to remark on how nice she looked. (And the comment would be that she did indeed look nice.) But he was afraid that wasn't appropriate today, given…

Her mind was still on Jimmy. She didn't doubt that they were indeed through, though her mind kept going back to him. "Hi," she said back, without expression.

"You, ah…you did great on that Oleando case recently," he said, after a frantic search of his mind turned up nothing much else in his mental folder labeled_ Michelle Lee, the shortest agent in NCIS._ That and the thought, _She's so cute!_

"Oh…thank you!" she said, looking up with a half smile. "Just a little bit of legal digging and sleuthing. I'm glad it helped you guys catch the perp."

"Thanks to you. Um…I was wondering…if you're not doing anything this Saturday…would you like to--?"

Her smile turned to a grin as she waited for him to finish the sentence.

"—er, I was thinking maybe you'd like dinner? And a show? Do you like the theatre?"

"I love it! But, McGee—Tim—don't spend that much money. I'd be happy going to the movies."

It was his turn to grin. "I think I have your address. I'll pick you up at 6."

- - - - -

Tony was worried. There wasn't much about being in the NCIS building that worried him, but sometimes worry followed him, like a mangy dog.

He knew the symptoms: Gibbs had him in his sights. Gibbs watched him every time he got up and every time he sat down. He watched when Tony left for lunch and when he left for the men's room. _I did something. He suspects it. And he's not going to let me go until I confess, or he decides he knows what I've done._

_No, he can't know. He still has that look of suspicion; not accusation…_

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs hissed. "What do you know about…"

" Leopard-skin prints? _Nothing!!"_

- - - - -

He wasn't the only one who felt he was being watched. Jimmy was used to the doctor's close scrutiny of his work—and he didn't mind that; he'd rather get it right from the start—but this was more like a scrutiny of his soul.

"Is, uh, is something on your mind, Dr. Mallard?" he finally ventured, slightly appalled at his forwardness.

Ducky blinked, also a little surprised. "Well, uh, that is, about this matter of Agent Lee's underwear being all over the building…no, I mean the rumors about it being all over the building…no, that's still not right. Let me try again—"

"Doctor, I know what you mean…"

"You do? Oh, that's good," Ducky sighed. "So I take it that that piece or two of undergarments found here in Autopsy may have belonged to Agent Lee?"

Jimmy stammered and tried to look perplexed, while wishing he would be summoned away for something, and right now.

"No, I don't understand it, either," said Ducky. "But if someone if spread rumors about it, then they may have been the same malicious souls who have stolen her garments and left them in here."

"I'm—I'm sure you're right, Doctor."

"Well, at least as far as the rumors go, maybe bringing this out in the open will stop the brassieres from flying all over the place. There's no call for that in a place of business."

"Um, yes, Doctor," Jimmy said sadly. In his ears he heard again Michelle saying, _We're through!_

Their relationship had started out being just lust. Now, though, he realized that it was sliding toward something more personal, something intoxicating, something that made his soul sing and his heart flutter every time he saw her. He was afraid to say it out loud. Was it what people called love?

And now it was all his fault, and he couldn't call his foolish words back. It was too late. He was a sorry, sorry man.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

- - - - -

Michelle looked fabulous, Tim thought as he picked her up Saturday night for their date, and then remembered to tell her so. _How is it possible that a girl this hot could not have formed an attachment at NCIS? Surely someone should have snatched her up by now…_

"Oh, yes; I _love_ Italian food," she said as Tim suggested a new place he'd found. It was undiscovered and reservations weren't needed yet. After a delicious meal and taking in the new Indiana Jones movie, they walked through a pedestrian mall, alive with many other couples enjoying the warm spring night.

They walked and talked and talked. That she was nearly a foot shorter than him had bothered him at first, but that wore off. It was so easy to talk to her that sometimes he didn't watch where his mouth was going, and only stopped it in the nick of time. _I can't tell her that!_

Again and again it happened. Finally Tim knew it was time for the evening to end, even though it wasn't that late by the clock. "I've got to go in and do some stuff at work tomorrow," he said, which was partially true. He should get to it, but whether he would or not was another matter. "I'll take you home."

To his mild surprise, Michelle didn't invite him in…though he sensed that she might on another time.

"I've enjoyed this so much, Tim," she smiled up at him as they stood at her door. "You're a really fun guy, and a _nice_ guy, too. They don't make many like you anymore." She pulled him into a deep, fabulous kiss that took his breath away.

She seemed breathless too when they broke apart. "Uh…maybe you'd like to…?"

"Uh, I've got to get home," Tim said, stepping away. "Thanks, Michelle. This was wonderful. See you Monday at work!"

So saying, Tim turned and walked briskly back to his car, while every nerve he had screamed _Fool! Fool! Go back!_

But it was being a fool that had gotten him into this trouble. Michelle was too nice a girl to become victimized again by him. If only he'd stopped himself, days ago…

Having driven a block, Tim made a U-turn and parked again in front of Michelle's place. She answered the door pulling tight a robe that partially covered a bra…a sensible, pale pink cotton, he noticed.

"Oh! Tim! Did you, uh, change your mind?" She didn't appear to be sure of her greeting.

"Uh, well, I—I wanted to say something, but, er, you look like you're getting ready for, er, bed…"

"Come on in," she smiled sweetly at his nervousness. "I was, but let me just throw on jeans and a t-shirt, and we can talk."

_You might not still be smiling when I'm done,_ he thought worriedly.

- - - - -

In his apartment that evening, Jimmy sat and fidgeted or got up and paced. He was used to spending Saturday nights home alone, and he'd always thought he liked it that way. Lately, however, he wasn't sure. He didn't envy the people his age that usually spent Saturday nights out doing something, on a date or with friends. He never had felt he was missing companionship, because he'd never felt _alone_…until now. Now, when he no longer had Monday to look forward to: Monday and seeing Michelle.

_Michelle_…it had been a long time in coming, but he was starting to admit that there was more, or could be more, to his relationship with Michelle than just lust. He had been starting to _like_ her, really like her, in the last few months. She was bright, witty, stylish, and had a good sense of humor. But the sexual attraction had been uppermost in his mind. Had she, perhaps, been looking for something more from him, and he had missed the signals? Had the animal print underwear debacle just been the last straw?

_I can sit here and feel sorry for myself…or I can do something. If I can't change Michelle's mind, I should move on and find another woman…_ He shuddered. The idea of Michelle not being part of his life was suddenly terrifying. _Then I have to do whatever it takes to get her back._

- - - - -

"I can't believe this," Michelle said, as they sat in her small living room. "I can't believe that _you_, Tim…"

"Well, if anything, I think it was pretty out-of-character for me." Tim blushed for the 4th or 5th time.

"_You_ spread the word about my _underwear_!!"

Tim blushed so much he thought his skin would peel. Yes, it was all his fault. After Palmer had volunteered the information about Michelle's underwear, Tim had felt so glib that he couldn't stop himself from finding someone to pass it on to. It was just _so_ deliciously funny. And of course, he hadn't stopped to think.

Tony had, clearly. Though amused by it all, Tony had known that spreading the information was akin to stating a death wish. Tony had been with Tim when Tim had mentioned it to the always-a-little-nosy security staff at the building entrance. Tim had laughed and stepped out of the way, missing most of the impact of Tony's head slap. It wasn't until a few minutes later, on the other side of the entrance, that Tim had realized that maybe that wasn't one of his better ideas.

What he hadn't realized was how fast the word would travel. Seemingly _everyone_ had heard within two hours. Tim hoped that it wouldn't be traced back to him. Tony, thankfully, didn't seem interested in turning him in…maybe because he'd been part of the joking from the start. Together they shared guilt, although Tim admitted to himself that _he_ had the lion's share of the blame.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong to do so. It was a horrible thing for me to do. I'm sorry."

Michelle's eyes narrowed. "Is that why you asked me out? To see what underwear I was wearing?"

"NO! I—I just...I almost never see you. We work on different floors, and our paths don't cross much. Then, when they did the other day, I thought…"

"Yes?"

"Sure, the stuff about your underwear did come to mind, but I thought it was kinda cool, in a way. Someone who wears that has to be someone who likes to have fun. Those who want to be thought of as sexy all the time wear black lacy, uh, things." _According to Tony_, he thought but didn't say out loud.

"You can be someone who likes to have fun and still wear ordinary clothing. That's what I usually wear."

"So why—"

It was her turn to blush. "Maybe…I can't believe I'm telling you this…maybe I like to wear them for, for someone in particular."

"Oh." Blush again. "I, uh, I didn't know you were seeing someone. I wouldn't have asked you out if I had. You must think I'm a real jerk; hearing about your, uh, taste in…patterns, and then asking you out. I _swear_ it wasn't—"

"I know. I believe you, Tim. I think you really are a gentle, decent fellow, who just…made a mistake."

"And I am soooooo sorry, Michelle."

She sighed. "I'd like to say that I accept your apology, but I think maybe I've got a bad reputation now at work. And…I think maybe my relationship with my guy has cooled because of this."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Tim, while mentally stomping on the wicked notion that said _She's free again! Ask her out!_ "He's one lucky guy to have a girl like you, whoever he is…say, I never did figure out how it was that Palmer knew about your underwear," he mused.

_Dang special agents!_ She tried coming up with an explanation, but only squawks came out of her mouth. Horrified, she tried to say something…_anything_…_anything_…to save her. And Jimmy. Yes, to her surprise, she still wanted to save Jimmy.

But somehow, Tim didn't seem to notice! "Ah, well," he said, shrugging. "Anyway, I just wanted to come clean with you, Michelle. You're a nice girl. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you." He got up.

She pulled him back down for a moment, for a long kiss, and she thought, _if only things were a little different…_ "You have character, Tim. I admire that."

He smiled thinly as he got up again. "I wish I knew how I could make it up to you."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll blow over after awhile," she said. _Like a year or two._

"Yeah, I guess so. Well, good night, Michelle." He left, and as he walked to his car, thought, _there must be something I can do…_

_Something also that could patch up things between her and Palmer…_ He congratulated himself on not having divulged to her what he'd suspected for some time. It was Palmer who had started this; it would have to be Palmer who would help set things right. He snapped his fingers as a plan formed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

- - - - -

All day Saturday, Jimmy's mind had been on Michelle. Sunday rumbled in with the rain clouds, and the lovely little lady was still uppermost in his mind. _You never appreciate what you have until it's gone,_ he thought sadly, and wiped away a bit of moisture that had somehow appeared on his cheek. _How can I get her back?_

As often happens at times like this, Despair accompanied Misery, and so Jimmy reluctantly took a hard look at himself. The findings were not positive. _What would she ever see in a nerd like me? Outside of the sex, is there nothing appealing about me?_ He had, he felt, little to offer her. He knew he was a bumbler part of the time, said socially incorrect things part of the time, and often seemed to turn people off. She was a law school graduate, a special agent, a success. He was still in medical school, his future uncertain, and much of the time it seemed that he only annoyed Dr. Mallard. _Maybe it would be best if we just never crossed paths again…_

Not easy to do in a place like NCIS. The building wasn't _that_ large. Since this had all started with his loose lips, the honorable thing would be for him to resign his job, or transfer. He rejected that idea as impractical, though. _I caused this trouble, so I should stay and suffer. I wish Michelle didn't have to go through this, though. This isn't her fault at all. I need to make it up to her…do something for her, or give her something she'd like…_

_The trouble was,_ he thought sadly, _I don't know her too well._ In all their furtive moments of passion, they'd never taken much time to ask about each other; hadn't even shared their middle names. He didn't know her tastes in music or movies; her favorite color, favorite flower, or preferred flavor of ice cream; whether she was a Republican, Democrat or member of some other party. He considered playing it safe by offering the path to least offense, and then, with amazing swiftness, rejected that. _Time to be bold._

_I need to stop thinking, and start acting! No more mister meek guy._

And then his phone rang.

- - - - -

Tony joined Tim at NCIS Sunday afternoon, in a t-shirt and shorts. "This better be good, McGeek. I'm giving up a nice spring day to spend uncompensated time at work??"

"You're helping a friend, Tony."

"A friend. Yes. Micro-Michelle. A part of our illustrious team, briefly, before Legal snatched her back. Thank heavens. And—" he added, at Tim's annoyed look, "I'm helping, it seems, Ms. Lee's unnamed suitor get back in her good graces." Tim had told Tony all the relevant bits of his talk with Michelle on Saturday night. Tony had agreed that something should be done; Michelle shouldn't be a victim.

Tim still wasn't entirely sure what was in this for Tony, despite what Tim had said to him. It was _Tim_ who had screwed up, after all; not Tony. _What is he up to…?_

One thing Tim hadn't shared with Tony was his conclusion that Jimmy was Michelle's paramour. It was hard to believe that, nerdy, motor-mouth Jimmy Palmer could have landed a girl as pretty as Michelle, but all the evidence pointed to that. Tim had no idea what the attraction could be, but told himself that it was none of his business. His only responsibility was to set things right in their world. Regardless of what Michelle wore underneath her clothes.

"I've okayed it with the Director, and Gibbs and Ducky have bought in. So have Abby and Ziva. And you…?"

"Yeah, yeah; I'll find something. So what is it you want me to do here today?"

"I'm handling the email. You work out where everyone should be. And think of a way to make sure Michelle is a little late to work tomorrow."

Tony eyed him, with a wicked grin. "So technically, she's still on the market? I wonder how she feels about Sunday night dates?"

Tim whacked him with a newspaper. "Go do what I asked you to do."

- - - - -

"_Hey, Palmer? This is Tim McGee. Do you have classes tomorrow morning?"_

Jimmy held his phone out and stared at it, as if it had come from another dimension. Only Dr. Mallard ever asked about his schedule. "Yes, I do," he said, after putting it back to his ear. "A class at 9. Why do you ask?"

"_Do you suppose you can skip it tomorrow? Some of us are planning on, uh, doing something nice for a friend first thing tomorrow morning. Someone who's been a little down. So Tony and I are contacting people to get them on board,"_

"Well, um, tell me about it, I guess." Jimmy swallowed, and remembered that his father had always said, 'No matter how bad your troubles are, there's always someone whose troubles are worse.'

- - - - -

"We are ready, I think," said Ziva the next morning. "Everyone is lining up."

Tim and Tony looked her over. "You look nice, Ziva," Tim smiled.

"Very nice," Tony agreed.

"Thank you," she said. "And you two do, as well."

"I always look nice," said Tony. "I can't help but drag Probie down by comparison."

Tim scowled, earning a quizzical look from Gibbs, who swung in then, coffee in hand. "You two think this'll work?" Gibbs asked.

"It better," sighed Tim. "Tony, did you make sure that Michelle would be a little late? How?"

"Several phone calls to her this morning, disguising my voice as various pollsters."

"That's nasty!"

"Well, yes, but I've learned that she has Democratic leanings but sometimes votes with the Green party; she's in favor of tax rollbacks; she favors representation for DC residents, she—"

"She's coming! I saw her from my lab window!" hissed Abby, who'd crept in, along with Ducky and Jimmy.

- - - - -

Michelle expected to take the elevator to the third floor, as usual; that's where her office was. She had hustled as best as she could, but she knew she would still be five or so minutes late. _All those phone calls! I hate election years!_ She heard her name called, and reached for the door open button as her department head ran in.

"I, uh, I'm sorry I'm late, Yvonne. It won't happen again. You see—"

Yvonne's normally bland expression looked mild today. "Oh, I'm sure it's alright, Michelle. I do need to talk to you about something, though. Let's get off at 2."

Michelle blinked before realizing that Yvonne meant floor 2, not 2 p.m. She fumbled to hit the floor button in time, but Yvonne had already taken care of it.

When the door opened on 2, a sea of people greeted them with cheers! "Michelle! Michelle!" went some of them. Others just cheered, pumped fists, or applauded. _What in the world…?_ Michelle thought, stepping out of the elevator slowly. Then it hit her: it wasn't what they were saying, but what they were _wearing_.

One woman wore a tiger-patterned blouse. Another wore a similar one, in a leopard print. Tony had a lounge lizard-style shirt with a snakeskin pattern under his sports coat. Tim wore a tie with a giraffe-skin pattern. Ziva had chosen a vest that mimicked a zebra. Abby's t-shirt pictured a large, glittery lion; Ducky wore a new bowtie with a tiger pattern, and even Gibbs had joined the act; a peacock-patterned handkerchief adorning his sports coat pocket. Everywhere Michelle looked, she saw animal patterns on people: ties, shirts, blouses, pants, handbags, even sneakers. Hearing familiar voices, she looked up and saw her Legal department coworkers leaning over the balcony and waving to her. Some of the women had peeled their blouses back a little to show off _their_ animal-patterned bras!

And there was the Director, in an eye-catching suit with a beautifully textured ocelot print that would hardly be typical of someone in her position. Jenny came down the stairs, smiling, and stopped before her. "Michelle," she said, her voice magnified by the wireless mike she held, "I'm afraid you suffered a great injustice at our hands, due to a fear of something different. Today we're trying to amend that by embracing that difference. Today all of us are friends of animal prints!" Cheers greeted this, and Jenny's subsequent hug of Michelle.

Michelle's heart had swelled, and happy tears formed. "Thank you…thank you…" she choked.

But that wasn't her last surprise. A familiar voice came. "Uh, Director; could I say something?" _Jimmy!_

Jimmy strode forward, looking a little nervous. He wore a zebra-striped shirt with a sober black necktie. Solemnly he accepted the mike from Jenny, whom, he could have sworn, _winked_ at him. "Michelle," he said, and everyone winced as feedback squealed. He adjusted the mike's position.

"Michelle," he tried again, "no one here owes you an apology more than I do." He didn't take in the murmurs around him; not one in 100 people could have said with whom the rumor about Michelle had started. "This is all my fault, and I am so sorry. Sometimes…when you've met someone really, really special, you just want to tell the world about them. Particularly when they're so…_beautiful_…" Tears were coming to his eyes, now, too.

Tony hissed to him, "Don't say it all now, Palmer. Leave some of the charm for another time." He then winked at Tim, who rolled his eyes. He should have known that Tony would have guessed it was Jimmy, all along. Maybe this explained some of the underwear that sometimes turned up in random spots around the building.

"Oh, Jimmy; that's so sweet!" Michelle said, looking at him as if for the first time,.

"Would you…go out with me Friday? So I can make it up to you with dinner, and, uh, I guess, dancing?"

"I'd love to!" she said, eagerly, and people cheered again, or said, "Awww!" Humans are so taken with love stories.

"Director—" said Cynthia, coming down the stairs. She wore a tight, leopard-patterned jumpsuit, which looked amazing on her. Tony was probably not the only male who stared, looking for cat ears and a tail. _Rrrrroww!_ "Director, the SECNAV is on his way for your 9 o'clock."

"Oh, good Lord!" Jenny glanced down at her outfit, and ran off to change into something more suitable for meeting her boss.

"Alright; let's get back to work, people," Gibbs called, and the crowd dispersed. Some still paused to give Michelle a smile or a pat on the shoulder. They were on her side.

Only Jimmy stood, smiling down at her as she smiled up at him. _A real date—at last!_

"Come, Mr. Palmer; our client awaits us," said Ducky, taking Jimmy's arm. "Agent Lee will still be around later."

"Yes! Yes, I will!" she said, watching them go, Jimmy waving to her as he left.

Heartfelt words, in place of loose lips. That was all it took. It was a chance for a new beginning.

- END -


End file.
